Would You Go With Me?
by V. Emily
Summary: Loosely based on a song of the same name by Josh Turner. Deeks is given startling news that forces him to make a quick decision. The request is half the problem; Kensi's answer is the rest. Will they find a happy ending, or will they be left with a lost friendship? Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Why can't I bring myself to work on my series? Bleh. Oh well - I'll just make this one a few chapters long and then, once it's finished, I will most definitely write my series. Anyhow, about this story: ...can't tell you much, it's just an idea that popped into my head while listening to songs. The song that pretty well inspired it is a nice number called "Would You Go With Me?" by Josh Turner. When I heard it, I thought of Kensi and Deeks (no idea why) and wondered, "How could I apply this to fan-fiction?" And...bam. This idea was born. Though truthfully, I think it kind of drifted from the actual song lyrics. No matter; it's not a songfic. Now I'm just rambling. Please read and, if you are so inclined, I would love to hear your opinions (both positive and otherwise) on this story! -V.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles. Honestly, I don't think I would handle being a producer very well. Neither do I own Josh Turner's fabulous work, though I have purchased the song on iTunes. ^_^**

**(Here's a couple lines from the song - again, it's called "Would You Go With Me?" by Josh Turner. Reading the full lyrics, it could easily have been a poem. Remarkable writing.)**

**_If I gave you my hand, would you take it and make me the happiest man in the world? _**

_**If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl?**_

_**Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea, let me know if you're really a dream?**_

_**I love you so, so would you go with me?**_

* * *

Kensi Blye had always relied on intuition as much as her agent training. Intuition - pure, natural, unteachable instinct. Of course, as a seasoned federal operative, she knew that simple instinct wasn't enough. A good agent required training, and lots of it. A good agent required field experience. But at the core of every good agent was a voice that told them "that's the answer", "that's the perpetrator", "that's important". Intuition.

It was this same instinct that told her, as she glanced repeatedly across the bullpen at her partner, that something was wrong with Deeks.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it. He was annoyingly chatty, as usual. He'd brought her coffee, as usual. He'd made several inappropriate references out of innocent remarks, as usual. But there were little things missing, little gaps in the odd weave that was the OSP's LAPD liaison. Absent was the absolutely aggravating tapping of his pen on his desk. Gone were the requests for Kensi to help him with his paperwork. The boring afternoon was completely devoid of Deeks's surfing the Internet on his laptop instead of doing actual work. He was focused on his forms, utterly and completely, as he had been since he opened a thin manilla folder near lunchtime that morning. In fact, during her glances at his desk, Kensi noticed that after completing every third form, he would pick that manilla envelope back up and flip through its limited pages again. He didn't sign any of the blanks. He just read, and read, and read, like it was a novel he had particularly enjoyed. Except, his face didn't look at all amused. It was blank, empty, emotionless. It had Kensi worried, quite frankly. Deeks never got worked up over paperwork.

Finally, Kensi could no longer stand watching him as he reread the folder's contents for a fifth time. She crumpled a form on which she'd accidentally signed her name "Kensi Deeks" (where on Earth did _that _slip of the pen come from?) and threw it right at Deeks's head. She hoped he wouldn't unfold it and read her flubbed signature, but she doubted he could decipher her cursive writing anyhow. Deeks startled as the ball landed in his hair and fell defeatedly to the tiled floor. Eyebrows raised in surprise, he looked at his partner and managed a somewhat-shaky smile. Since when were his smiles so unsure? Kensi hated to admit it, but she depended on those confident grins for reassurance. What was wrong with him?

"When did my head become a basketball hoop, Magic Johnson?" he questioned with bemusement that Kensi could see right through.

"When did the real Deeks switch places with a depressed office worker?" she asked back. Deeks's eyes grew sad, if only for a moment. His whole face seemed to droop just a little before springing back into its former cheeriness.

"I'm not depressed," he insisted. "Just tired."

"You drink too much coffee to be tired."

"I dunno, Kens...it's just another boring day, I guess. Hey Sam, Callen, are you guys having fun?"

Both senior agents answered with grunts as they paged through paperwork.

"See, Kensi?" he said to his partner. "Not depressed. Bored."

"Well, whatever's wrong with you, I'll get to the bottom of it," Kensi vowed. Deeks sighed.

"Nothing's wrong with me."

Kensi snorted. "Please."

She returned to her work. Deeks finished reading through the manilla envelope's contents once again, shaking his head ever the slightest. Something was on that paper that he couldn't believe, and Kensi had half a mind to sneak a look at what it was.

That evening, precisely one hour and forty-three minutes before five o'clock (also known as the Great Quitting Time), Deeks rose from his desk and left the OSP, muttering an excuse about needing some air. Kensi's eyes followed him as he left. Deeks never "needed air". People in crowded bars "needed air". People in hot, stuffy rooms "needed air". Sick people "needed air".

"_Is that it?" _thought Kensi as the doors shut behind Deeks. _"Is he sick?" _

More curious about her partner's wellbeing than about the unattended folder on his desk, Kensi also rose from her chair to follow him. Sam and Callen asked no questions. It was part of the unwritten code of partners to keep track of one another's wellbeing.

There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Kensi's stomach. She knew the sensation well; it cropped up any time that Deeks was in a bad place, big problem or small. She hated that feeling. Kensi supposed that it came whenever one had a partner. She'd felt it with Dom, hadn't she?

Well, yes and no. She'd always felt uneasy when Dom was in trouble. But she'd never felt it quite like this. It was probably that stupid, merciless "thing" she had for him. It always pinned her in a complicated position at the worst possible times. She'd be having a perfectly good evening watching Top Model on the couch with him, and then she'd look at him and get this warm, fluttery feeling inside and wouldn't be able to see him the same for the rest of the night. Some called it "love", but Kensi was just a little too prideful for that. She called the sensation by the name that both partners knew - "thing" - and let it sit at that. Whether Deeks felt the same way or not, she neither knew nor cared. Well, she cared. But she pretended not to when she thought about the issue.

Kensi opened the Mission doors to an empty courtyard. He'd just come out this way, right? She was positive he had; she'd watched him go. Hurriedly, Kensi bustled out to the parking lot. The purr of an engine, the flash of tire hubcaps, the glint of waning sunlight on a rear window. Deeks's parking spot was empty, and a distressed-looking shaggy blond driver was booking it down the road.

Gone.

What the heck was wrong with him?

* * *

Deeks was having a very bad day, probably one of the worst in his life. As he sped down the lane twenty miles per hour above the speed limit, he forced himself not to yell in anger. When he saw blue, white, and red lights flashing in his rearview mirror, he had to force harder. Nevertheless, he pulled his car over and waited for the officer to lumber over. The policeman looked a little started to see the detective's face as Deeks rolled down the window and removed his sunglasses.

"D-Detective Deeks!" stammered the officer in surprise.

"Hal Hawthorne," Deeks nodded. "Long time, no ticket. Come to read me my rights?"

"Sorry, detective," Officer Hawthorne apologized. "But you were going at least fifteen over the limit, so I had to pull ya over regardless."

"Twenty, actually," Deeks replied nonchalantly.

As Hawthorne wrote the ticket out on his pad of paper, he asked, "So, detective, what's the matter?"

"Why does something always have to be the matter? Everybody's on my case today."

"Maybe it's 'cause something's obviously wrong with ya."

"Is it any of your business, Hawthorne?" Deeks snapped, uncharacteristically irritated from the day's trials.

"Seeing as I'm writing you a traffic ticket, sir, I'd say yeah, it is."

"Fair enough," Deeks sighed. "Some forms were left on my desk today."

"If that was all, _everyone _would be depressed."

Hawthorne wasn't the brightest officer in the squad car, but he had a point.

"Well, these forms were particularly undesirable."

"The pink-slip kind or the demotion kind?"

Deeks took a moment to collect himself before answering, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat. "...The...The transfer kind. That satisfy you, Hawthorne?"

Officer Hawthorne ripped the ticket off the pad and handed it to Deeks, who scanned it quickly with a scowl.

"Gee, detective, that's rotten luck," Hawthorne said with sympathy. "Maybe it's to somewhere nice, huh?"

"San Francisco. SFPD needs a new lead detective. Theirs got caught up in some scandal."

"Oh," Hawthorne commented simply. "Oh. But what's the big deal? You like L.A. that much?"

Deeks, sliding his sunglasses back on and revving the engine, mentioned, "Not really."

He rolled the window almost all the way up, then hesitated. "Fine. *Maybe* there's a girl."

"Isn't there always, Detective?" Hawthorne chuckled. Deeks waved off the statement and started to drive away. Before pulling all the way onto the road, he found himself asking loudly of the officer, "Hey, Hawthorne?"

The older man glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, Detective?"

"What would you do?"

"About the ticket? I'd pay it."

"No, about the girl."

"Hm..." Officer Hawthorne scratched his graying hair. "That's a tricky one, Detective Deeks. But plain and simple, if she was a keeper, I'd get down on a knee."

Deeks raised his eyebrows. "Would you?"

"Sure. If she was worth it, I wouldn't leave her behind."

Deeks pondered this. "Interesting."

He drove off at last, thinking this over. "Interesting," he repeated. "Interesting." Then he chided himself mentally, _"Deeks, this is crazy stuff you're thinking about."_

But he found himself exiting off the highway towards the mall nevertheless. He recalled seeing a jewelry store on the second floor of the shopping center.

"_Crazy stuff, Deeks."_

But he didn't sway his course to the jewelry store, either.

**I'll try to update soon. Thoughts on this opening chapter? **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm totally thrilled by your comments, favorite alerts, and follow alerts! You make a writer grin like a fool at her computer monitor. ^_^ (That's a good thing.) I'm so sorry it's been a bit of a wait; I didn't plan on posting late. I found myself with a few plot issues after the first chapter, but thanks to LOTRRanger (who gave me some epic advice) I can finally write the rest of the series. ^_^ Beta readers are amazing. **

**I hope you enjoy! As always, I'd love to know your opinion. Feedback is a writer's best friend...next to readers, that is! I can't thank you enough just for bothering to read. -V.**

* * *

Deeks only returned to the OSP that evening to collect his things. He didn't say anything to anyone, didn't stop to make a joke, didn't even make eye contact with his teammates. He seemed to be avoiding Kensi especially. In the corner of his eye, he caught her hurt expression, and it stabbed at him. Deeks wished he could just tell her what was wrong, but every time he thought about it, his chest tightened and his heartbeat raced like a cop in a car chase. So he ended up leaving the bullpen without uttering a single word to anyone. From where she sat, worry lines in her forehead, Kensi saw that the only thing he took with him was that manilla folder.

Of course, she wasn't going to let him get away with ignoring her. That night, once she was finished with her paperwork, she swung by their favorite pizza joint. Kensi was deep in thought as she ordered a large cheese pizza at the counter; she was having a hard time thinking of what to say to him. If only she knew what was wrong, it would make the "comforting speech" aspect easier. It was a good thing that pizza with your partner cured everything anyway. The flat, square take-out box sitting on the passenger seat, Kensi drove the familiar route to his apartment.

She knocked on his door and waited for a dejected-looking detective to answer, but no one made a sound within the apartment. She knocked again - nothing, no answer. She repeated this procedure three times, but concluded he wasn't home. She left to check the beach, his favorite bar, and some of Deeks's other hang-out spots.

Kensi didn't know it yet, but she wouldn't find him anywhere. That was because he _was_, in fact, at home. Deeks knew too well who was knocking on his door, and that was why he didn't answer. Instead, he sat in his bedroom with only his flickering bedside lamp turned on. His stormy eyes scanned the lines of a single sheet of paper. It was not from the manilla envelope - not technically, anyway. He'd received it this morning at his apartment, then brought it to work and hidden it with the other papers in the envelope. When he'd left that afternoon (claiming he needed some air), he'd made sure to bring it, lest Kensi go snooping around his desk. That letter was the last thing he wanted her reading.

It was written in a hasty but precise scrawl. It was not dated at the top, and the envelope in which it had been delivered bore no return address. That didn't matter much. It was signed at the bottom and Deeks could've gathered who had sent it even if it wasn't.

He reread it for the millionth time since that morning. It wasn't that Deeks couldn't believe what was written, it was that he just couldn't understand _why _someone would do this to him. He'd fought a lot of sickos, arrested a lot of disturbed folks, but now he was the victim. Deeks absentmindedly caressed the dented portion of his bedroom wall where he'd punched it that morning. His knuckles were still red from the pain, but somehow that made Deeks want to punch the wall again.

This was the first paragraph of the terrible letter, the real reason he was going to San Francisco. He could deny that transfer if he wanted to, and under any other circumstance, he would. The letter had changed that.

_Detective, _it began. _It's been awhile, hasn't it? There's a rumor going around the police station. You know I'm not too keen on gossip, Marty, but I found this particularly interesting. Word has it you talked to Bates about signing some important paperwork, and that you're planning on joining the snobs at NCIS. It's funny; I always thought you were a decent person, Detective. Whatever happened to honesty? You know full well who should be signing those papers, and it isn't you. Don't you remember an old partner of yours? A certain case from 2010? You know who that NCIS spot belongs to, Marty. _

By the time he finished reading that paragraph for the first time that morning, a lump had already settled in Deeks's stomach. He'd sat down at his dining table just to regain his balance. Now, as he sat in his dimly-lit bedroom, he didn't see the words on the page. He saw four letters; he saw what this letter spelled for him - doom.

Everyone makes mistakes. That's true enough. But someone remembered two mistakes of his specifically, and they weren't going to let him forget so easily.

* * *

When Deeks returned to the OSP center the next morning, Kensi was working worriedly at her desk. He could tell that she was pretending to work, but she kept looking up at the door periodically. Callen was half-asleep as he scanned a sheet of thin paper, trying to wake himself up by taking big gulps of coffee. Sam, as always, worked diligently. Nothing was amiss at all in the world of Sam's organized work-space.

During one of her routine glances at the front door, Kensi spotted her partner. She did a double-take, then put on a grin and got up from where she sat behind her desk. Striding briskly over to him, she began to pepper him with questions in a cheerful version of a boathouse interrogation.

"Hi, Deeks; you were gone awhile yesterday," she rambled. "I was getting kinda suspicious. Did you get over to that donut shop on 5th Street?" Seeing no donuts for her, she continued, barely missing a beat. "Okay, maybe you didn't. So where were you? Are you feeling all right?" Kensi caught a glimpse of the weariness in his blue eyes and on his scruffy face. She noticed his dejected gait as they both walked slowly into the bullpen. He had the air of a dog who knew he was about to get scolded, but whose owner didn't know what wrong he'd done yet.

Kensi repeated her last question, placing a staying hand on his forearm and wrinkling her forehead when his muscles tensed nervously under her palm. "Deeks, hey. You all right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "I'm fine."

Admittedly, she wanted to punch him. That was _her _lie to use!

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Did you get another Hetty-note?"

Deeks flashed a hint of a familiar smile. Then it vanished, giving way once more to an exhausted, gloomy atmosphere around him. "Nah," he answered mildly. "I just have a lot of paperwork to sort out. I'd rather be surfing."

Kensi suddenly reached over and ****ed the manilla envelope out of her partner's hands. Before he could interject with "Hey!" she had opened it.

"Kensi, hey, give it back!" Deeks demanded, making a desperate grab for the folder. Kensi held it out of his reach and strode triumphantly over to his desk. Deeks's shoulders slumped in defeat; he knew better than to argue with her. Callen and Sam had temporarily abandoned their paperwork and were watching with interest, like two friends at a movie theater who were viewing an entertaining film.

Kensi whipped through the lines of the first few paragraphs, her eyes darting rhythmically from left to right. With each line, her frown deepened a little more until she was flat-out gaping. It was probably just the cheap lighting, but Deeks could swear he saw the shining of tears in her eyes by the time she finished with the whole document. Deeks kept his gaze fixed on her, however painful it was to watch her read.

Once she was through, she looked slowly up at Deeks. Her forlorn eyes tore at the detective's heart.

"You're _leaving_?" she asked in a raspy near-whisper. Her throat was already sore with the anticipation of tears to come. Deeks wished he could say 'no' in answer to her question, but he could only nod.

Callen and Sam's eyebrows shot up in shock at this latest development. Well, Callen's did. Sam had an almost creepy knack for staying calm on the outside. Maybe it was all that meditating.

"Are you serious, Deeks?" Callen asked. "Did you get fired?"

"Transferred," Deeks corrected. "San Francisco PD. Bates's orders."

"Not happening!" Kensi said emphatically, getting up from her chair. "Hetty won't let this happen to you! Just refuse the transfer! You're not going anywhere. You love it here."

Deeks merely said, "I hear San Francisco's got good waves."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, when in fact he was facing one of the biggest conflicts of his life. He knew too well about the paperwork sitting in his top right desk drawer. His NCIS application, awaiting his signature. A single, simple scrawl of the pen and he'd have it made. Good-bye LAPD, hello NCIS. Good-bye San Francisco, hello Los Angeles. Good-bye SFPD, hello Kensi. All he had to do was sign his name.

So why not do it right now? Why not tell his team about those papers, quit LAPD, and just sign the stupid form? Why not tell Bates that he wouldn't go to San Francisco for the best surfboard in the world, that he would much rather stay with his team, with Kensi? Why not light a bonfire on the beach and toss that transfer notice into the flames?

Why not, after all? Because of that letter. That letter was the bane of Deeks's life right now.

Kensi was speechless. "You...you can't be serious," she whispered. "Deeks, why would you leave? I thought you liked it with NCIS."

"Maybe it's time for a change," Deeks snapped. He took his folder back from Kensi and sat down decidedly behind his desk. His co-workers stared at him for several awkward seconds. Kensi fixed her eyebrows into a scowl, hoping it would mask the hurt.

"I'm not being kept in the dark again, right?" she asked, forcing a nervous chuckle. "There's no weird op going on where I have to act like Deeks is really leaving?"

Deeks was unamused. He didn't look up from the forms on his desk as he answered, "No."

The silence lasted only half a minute longer before Kensi murmured, "Be back in a minute."

The truth was, she wished she could run away and never come back to the bullpen. She bustled out of the work-space as calmly as she could, leaving through the back entrance. In the courtyard, she sat against the wall underneath the "Condemned Building" sign. Covering her mouth with one hand and using the other to rake through her hair, she tried not to cry. Crying was very un-Kensi-like. And yet, she seemed unable to help herself - he was really leaving! Worse, he had a _choice_, and he was leaving everything behind! Kensi felt selfish as she thought it, but a voice in her head told her, _"He's leaving _you, _Kensi."_

Meanwhile, in the bullpen, Deeks set down his pen and folded his arms on his desk, setting his head down on top of them. What did he just do to her? What terrible part of him inspired the harshness he'd just spoken with? Dang it, this was his partner! And, like it or not, he was in love with her. Nobody should talk to the person they love like that. _Especially _not if you'd been formulating the plan Deeks was formulating at the time.

Sam nudged his shoulder, and Deeks raised his head to look at the senior agent.

"What was _that_?" he demanded.

"I...I just..." Deeks stammered.

"Well, get out there and fix it," Sam ordered. His tone left no room for questioning, and Deeks knew Sam was usually right anyway. Reluctantly, he rose from his desk, checking the pocket of his messenger bag for the item he was looking for. Finding it, he stuffed it into his jeans pocket as discreetly as he could. Then, he left in the same direction as his partner had moments earlier.

Man, this was some mess he'd landed himself in.

* * *

Kensi knew it was him before she saw her partner. Deeks wordlessly sank down to sit next to her against the courtyard wall. He sighed, leaning his head back. Kensi refused to look at him. Mostly because, whenever she looked at him, she felt that pesky warmth inside of her that made her heart flutter. On the job, she could usually try to ignore it pretty well. But if she didn't try hard enough, it would surge through her with a ridiculous strength. And after he'd hurt her so recently, she didn't want to feel that for him. She didn't want to, but she knew she would. _Love_, some called it. Kensi grimaced.

Man, this was some mess she'd landed herself in.

Deeks spoke first. "I'm sorry."

Well, that's one way to start a conversation. Kensi remained silent.

"Really," Deeks said for emphasis. "I'm sorry, Kens."

Kensi gave in and looked him in the eyes. Darn his sincerity. Darn her for being so quick to accept it. Couldn't she hold a grudge against him just for a little while?

"Why, Deeks?" she asked softly. Kensi hated how strained her voice was. "Do you really want to go to San Francisco that much?"

Deeks felt his heart melting at the look on her face. Darn her for being so irresistible. Darn him for falling for her. Why did he have to be in love?

But he didn't answer her question. If he said "yes," he'd hurt her further. If he said "no," she'd get suspicious. And eventually, if she was suspicious, she'd find that letter. She'd put the pieces together. And she'd know the truth. Deeks shivered at the thought. There were some things he just couldn't let anyone know. The problem right now, however, was that one other person _did _know.

Kensi looked at him with concern. "Deeks, why are you leaving?"

Deeks offered a shaky smile. "San Francisco's not so bad," he said, attempting to be convincing. She didn't buy it, he knew, but it was worth a try.

Kensi made a bold move and reached for his hand, clutching it firmly in hers. "Deeks," she said, her eyes boring into his with intensity that took him aback. "What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

Oh, yes, yes he was. But she couldn't know, not when she was part of that trouble. However inadvertently, she was part of the reason he had to leave. But Deeks wasn't going to leave without her.

So he didn't answer that question, either. He recalled his conversation with Officer Hawthorne. _"__If she was a keeper, I'd get down on a knee." _Well, if that middle-aged officer could do it, so could Deeks. He pulled that black jewelry case out of his jeans pocket, and before there could be any perfectly-timed interruptions or doubts in his head, he spoke.

Time seemed frozen as Kensi sat there, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of a gorgeous silver-banded ring fitted with a raised diamond. She'd always remember the sight of Deeks's eyes, filled with the same love she'd always denied that she felt in her heart. She'd remember the sunlight on his hair, the warmth on her skin, the way her hands shook. She'd always remember the confident tone of his voice as he asked her an unexpected question.

"Kensi," he began. "You need to know that I don't love L.A. Not for the surfing, not for NCIS, and _definitely_ not because I was raised here." He rolled his eyes and turned serious again. "For me, you're the best part. I hate San Francisco, but if you were there, I'd love it. Even if I was renting an apartment with a cat-obsessed old woman for a land-lady."

Kensi smiled in spite of herself.

"So Kens...I know this is probably the craziest thing I've ever done," he continued. "Well, maybe except competing in the LAPD's chili-dog-eating contest. Anyway, I need to ask, because it'll kill me knowing I never did before I left. I don't want to leave L.A., but I need you to understand that I have no choice, and that I love you too much not to say this."

Her breathing hitched and her heart skipped a beat. She knew he was insane, but this was a whole new level.

"Kensi Blye, I'm leaving Los Angeles. Would you go with me?"

Kensi, despite the whirring in her mind, made herself think about it. She loved L.A., loved her job, loved her friends, loved her house. But she loved her partner, didn't she? Of course she did, but...this was so sudden! She should've had time to prepare for this, right? But if she loved him as much as she thought she did, shouldn't she be able to accept with a moment's notice?

"Deeks, I..." she stammered. "I...this is...I can't believe..."

Deeks's smile was faltering.

"I don't know if..."

Like a candle's waning flame, his expectant grin made the decrescendo into a dreading frown.

"I'm not sure if..." Kensi tried to choose her words meticulously, but they came out in a jumble. "I can't...I don't know if I can just leave..."

Time seemed frozen. She'd always remember the glint of the light on that diamond that he had presented to her. She'd remember the shadow in her heart. And she'd remember the sorrow in his bright blue eyes when she said no.

* * *

**Do I even want to know the response to this chapter? Actually, yes, I do. XD I promise I'll resolve this, and I hope for this update to be much quicker than the last. Hang in there! ^_^ Thanks for reading so far! -V.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Loving the response to this story, guys! Thanks so much! ^_^ It makes me very motivated. So, speaking of motivation, I'm finding a lot of good music for this story (it figures, since I took the title from a song). It's kind of scary, for example, how well the song "Here Comes Goodbye" (Rascal Flatts) suits this series. I suggest listening to it while reading this. And if you have any good "goodbye" music you'd recommend for me...please PM. I need inspiration. XD Anyway, on with the story! -V.**

**Disclaimer: NCIS: LA isn't mine. It's probably for the best. I also don't own Rascal Flatts, who I mentioned in the above paragraph and whose song lyrics I am posting below. Hey, one can never be too safe with disclaimers. **

**A few lines from the above-mentioned "Here Comes Goodbye": **

"**_Here comes goodbye_**

_**Here comes the last time**_

_**Here comes the start of every sleepless night**_

_**The first of every tear I'm gonna cry**_

_**Here comes the pain**_

_**Here comes me wishing things had never changed**_

_**That she was right here in my arms tonight**_

_**But here comes goodbye."**_

**Note: Maybe it's only fan-fiction, but this chapter is dedicated to the folks in Aurora, Colorado.**

* * *

The first thing he did was leave the OSP, not offering a word of explanation. The first thing she did was bury her face in her hands and cry, still unsure how right or how wrong she'd been.

Deeks, his manilla folder in tow, went home, taking the seaside route. He didn't pet Monty when the big dog greeted him at the door, only walked wordlessly off to the bathroom to shower. He turned the water to a scalding, center-of-the-Earth temperature and let it cascade over him. Deeks didn't care how much it stung. The pain barely registered, and really, what could hurt after that scene in the courtyard?

He showered until the hot water supply dwindled and was replaced with something akin to Arctic seawater. Deeks endured this for a while, then finally turned the shower off and dried himself with a towel. It felt odd to be showering around noontime, but Deeks put the petty concern aside. Once he was fully dressed, he stepped out of the steamy bathroom and onto the cool floor of his apartment, sighing. Monty begged for attention, and Deeks reluctantly patted him on the head. Then, the detective collapsed on his couch, squeezing his eyes shut in the ridiculous hope that things between he and Kensi would magically return to normal.

What had he been thinking, asking her that?

Deeks chastised himself for such extreme stupidity. Just because he was leaving, he expected her to follow? Had he even said "I love you"? Had he even waited for her to say if she loved _him_ as much as he loved _her_? Had he even once told her how he'd always felt about her? No, he had not done any of those things. He'd only asked her to marry him. He'd taken her off her guard, made her flustered. He'd rushed things. And now, they would never be the same.

Deeks wasn't much of a crier. Sometimes he wondered how this was possible, considering the kind of things his job made him witness. On the other hand, maybe his whole life - which seemed to hit every imaginable bump in the road - had hardened him to such things. Either way, Deeks surprised himself when the tears came to his eyes and spilled onto the arm of his sofa. Monty whined and paced the living room, concerned over the state of his master.

Well, he was already crying, so why stop? The detective buried his face in his hands, letting sobs wrack his body and make his shoulders tremble. Deeks could hear the sounds of countless movie nights in this same room, on this very couch. He could hear joking between himself and his partner, movie dialogue in the background, and beer bottles being opened. Deeks clenched his fists. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he create this irreparable rift between them? They hadn't been on a single date; they hadn't even acknowledged their "thing" as being more than that. And he thought it was a good idea to just up and ask her to marry him?

Deeks knew it was a bad decision to reread the letter he'd received yesterday, but he figured he'd pretty much hit a rock-bottom mood anyway. He held the piece of paper in his hands, thinking of how ironic it was for such a delicate object to hold such weight for him.

This is the second paragraph of that terrible letter that had changed everything in the course of twenty-four hours. Deeks gritted his teeth as he read the following:

_Detective, it's our job to make sure that criminals know that bad deeds aren't rewarded. Think of this as merely...enforcing this goal. You know what you did to me, and it won't be left in the shadows any longer. That NCIS position is mine - but that's not enough, Marty. I need to know that you aren't still benefitting from the work _I _did. You can't keep those papers and you can't stay with NCIS, not when you don't deserve it. You'll find some forms from Bates on your desk today. Conveniently, there's an opening in the SFPD for a new detective. I made sure to recommend you to Bates for the job. Nice of me, right? Read carefully, Detective: you're going to grant your permission for your transfer to San Francisco. You're going to leave NCIS and LAPD far behind you. And to make sure that you do...well, I've heard a lot about your partner at NCIS, Kensi Blye. She's a remarkable character, isn't she? But I know you. You probably wish you two were...more than partners, shall we say. It's a fragile balance, the partnership and the sexual tension. Unfortunately for you, that balance is in my hands now. Don't you remember an LAPD partner of yours, the one you were assigned after our partnership dissolved? She was a pretty little thing, wasn't she? Don't underestimate me, Detective. I know everything that went down between you two. And I know everything about you and your NCIS partner, too. Wouldn't it be a shame if I decided to mix the past with the present? Wouldn't it be terrible if Miss Blye were to be told a story you don't want her to hear? If she were told about a side of your past that you've cleverly kept to yourself? I bet San Francisco is sounding nice by now, isn't it, Detective? Pack your bags and sign the transfer papers. Also, do a guy a favor and stop by your boss's office. Tell her you recommend me for the NCIS position. Remember, Detective Deeks: I can change everything about how Miss Blye thinks of you. That's what you get when you keep secrets._

Deeks slammed the paper down on the coffee table, not wanting to read any further. He knew exactly which events the blackmailer was referring to. He knew which fling, and he remembered every steamy second. Again, he scolded himself for ever being so, so terribly dense. Why had he ever thought he would find permanent satisfaction from flings like that? And how had the blackmailer found out about it? He shuddered. Kensi could never know that. If she were to be told by the blackmailer about it...

Realization dawned on him. Relations between he and Kensi had already been damaged by his out-of-the-blue marriage proposal (and, more specifically, her stuttered refusal). Would it matter if she were informed of Deeks's past partner-to-partner fling?

Deeks decided that it _did _matter. He couldn't let her think of him as that kind of guy. And furthermore, what would stop the blackmailer from telling the story to the whole of the LAPD? What if he told it to _Bates_? Deeks could never live with that.

And especially not when the person he'd had the fling with was now dead.

He couldn't let the blackmailer do that. He couldn't let her memory be stained so permanently. It had been a chapter in both their lives that neither partner was proud of. It had gone down as a dark secret. It was supposed to _stay _a dark secret.

And really, what could he stay for? With his and Kensi's friendship fractured, did he have a reason anymore? He'd always lived in L.A., but he found that without Kensi, it seemed empty and worthless to him.

Deeks was going to San Francisco.

* * *

Kensi Blye remained in the courtyard for fifteen minutes after Deeks left. She then returned to work, but the words on the page may as well have been written in Farsi for all she could comprehend. Sam and Callen asked no questions about Deeks, figuring she knew best when it came to him and wouldn't have let him leave if there was cause for worry. But as Kensi held her forehead in her hand, she wished they would just ask what had happened in the courtyard. She wanted to, _needed _to tell someone, though she wasn't sure what the reaction would be. In the end, she only told some fib about her head hurting, gathered her things, and went home.

It was a mistake. At home, she was all alone. Kensi sat on her couch, filled with a hurricane of questions and wonderings. What if she'd said yes? Didn't she love him, after all? But what on Earth had he been thinking, springing that on her? What on Earth had _she _been thinking, saying no? Why did he have to leave? What was happening to him? Why wasn't she trying to fix it? Why did he have to go and cause this awkward rift between them by proposing to her?

And her most haunting question: Why did she refuse?

That was one that had her entirely stumped. She'd been denying it for over two years, but she was completely in love with Deeks. That should've been enough for her. Abashedly, she'd even daydreamed about if he ever proposed to her. But when the real thing came, she was shocked. Still, she chided, think about it. What had she refused by turning down the ring? A life of happiness with her partner, a promise of joy, and a fulfilled fantasy. So why had she said no? Why had she hurt him so badly, left him with no explanation, let him believe she didn't love him?

She was scared.

Scratch that, she was _terrified_. Stonewall Blye, a wuss. The truth was, she could look down the barrel of a gun and not break a sweat. She could leave the site of an explosion unfazed. She could get shot and still be brave enough to return to the job. But one of her most horrifying personal experiences had been that Christmas morning when Jack had gone missing. She loved Deeks, no matter how much she tried to hide it from herself. But in that moment in the courtyard, when he'd said things she'd dreamt of hearing, all she could see was the empty living room. All she could hear was the silence, broken by Kensi calling Jack's name. All she could feel was the hurt and the agony. The part of her that remembered all those things told her that she could never say yes again.

Now, as she sat alone in her house, she scolded herself for her refusal. This was Deeks! Under no circumstances could she ever picture him leaving like Jack had. Of course, seven years ago, she couldn't picture _Jack _leaving her, either. Said the doubtful voice in Kensi's mind, _Anything can happen_.

Kensi, not caring that her eyes were filling with tears, walked over to the mantlepiece of her never-used fireplace. She picked a magazine out of the clutter, determined to distract herself. Underneath it, along with a dozen other random trinkets (_Hoarders_, indeed) was a small framed photograph. She tried to ignore it, even though she knew well which photo it was. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to look at the picture. Hating that she was so quick to give in to him, Kensi picked it up by the wooden frame.

What a ridiculous picture it was. There they were on the beach, Deeks and Kensi and Monty, happy as could be. They'd been out on a run along the coast when Deeks had convinced a tourist to take their photo. As if he was entitled to, the detective slung an arm casually over her shoulder. Kensi punched him in the ribs but didn't pull away. Monty sat at Deeks's feet, grateful for the break. Kensi's brows knitted into a scowl at the intimacy of their pose.

Just then, Deeks had cracked a joke. "Just like a couple," he'd said triumphantly. "We have one ugly kid, though."

Looking down at the mangy mutt, Kensi had found herself laughing. That was when the tourist had snapped the shot: Deeks grinning broadly, his arm around her, and Kensi with a teeth-flashing smile. The happy scene was completed by Monty, his tongue lolling out. They looked so contented in the shot that, examining it now, Kensi felt herself choking up. What she wouldn't give for those days again! What had she done to him?

Kensi took the picture and stuck it on the top of a tall bookshelf. She didn't want to see it anymore. Happy Kensi and Happy Deeks and Happy Monty should live in the place they now belonged - the past.

* * *

The following day saw Kensi, Sam, and Callen back in the bullpen. All the makeup in the world hadn't been able to hide her red-ringed eyes, still wet from her crying. The two older male agents, their investigating instincts nagging at them, couldn't help but interrogate her - in the friendliest way possible way, of course.

"Morning, Kens," said Callen, faking cheerfulness. "You okay?"

Kensi nodded, not looking up from her desk.

"Kensi," Sam persisted. "Something wrong with Deeks?"

She shook her head now. "No," she murmured. "Just me." She stopped them as both agents opened their mouths to say something. "Don't ask."

"Does that mean you _want _us to ask, or _don't _want us to ask?" wondered Callen aloud. Kensi offered no further conversation, and though the senior agents were concerned, they decided to put off the questioning for now. With a shared glance of worry, they returned to their work.

By ten o'clock, Deeks had not come in to the OSP building. Hetty got off the phone in her office, a cloud of disappointment shadowing her. The minuscule director walked sullenly into the bullpen. Though she kept her perfect posture, she felt deflated and weary, despite the early time of day. The three agents stopped working at their desks and glanced up, waiting for Hetty to speak.

"I have some...unpleasant news," she announced with a small sigh. "It seems that Mr. Deeks, while he valued his time on our team, has accepted a transfer to the police department in San Francisco. He will depart Los Angeles in a matter of only a few weeks."

"He accepted the transfer?" asked Callen unbelievingly.

"G., yesterday he said he wanted to," Sam reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but..." Callen trailed off.

Hetty continued, "We are greatly affected by the loss of Mr. Deeks; however, we shall wish him only the best with his change of location."

Without accepting further questions, Hetty left the bullpen and returned to her office. Sitting tiredly in her desk chair, she muttered, "Oh, bugger."

Meanwhile, in the bullpen, the agents were silent. Kensi closed her eyes, willing tears not to leak from under her eyelids. Callen and Sam, now in the loop and able to sympathize, figured this was as good a time as any to continue their questioning. Gently, of course.

"I wonder who the new guy will be," Sam said, thinking out loud. Callen shot his partner a glance that clearly read, _"Too soon, big guy."_

Callen, noticing Kensi's pained expression, chimed in with, "It won't be the same without him, will it?"

Kensi shook her head, cursing under her breath as a tear trickled down her cheek. Crying at all was one thing. Crying in front of her co-workers was a thousand times worse.

"He was annoying," Sam said, then softened somewhat. "But it'll be quiet without him griping."

Kensi knew that was as close as Sam had ever gotten to complimenting her partner. However, she herself remained silent. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. All she wanted was her partner back, as if the proposal had never happened. The only person she wanted to talk to was him, but because that wasn't an option, she wasn't going to speak at all.

Several silent minutes slipped by in the bullpen. Slowly, reluctantly, Callen and Sam returned to their paperwork. Kensi tried to focus on the papers in front of her, but found she could not. Without so much as a "back in five" or "be right back," Kensi got up and found herself walking out of the OSP and to the parking lot. She revved the engine, and rested her head on the steering wheel for a short minute to gather her swimming thoughts. Then she drove off.

Her original destination was her house, but ten minutes later, she was parked in a dusty lot right off the beach. She'd often come walking here with Deeks. In fact, this was the same place where that picture had been taken. Sighing, Kensi got out of her car and went to go sit on the sound. Listening to the waves, she pulled her knees to her chest. The beach was not yet crowded, but lunch and the noon heat would surely bring a few tourists and locals to the shore. Kensi only stayed for fifteen more minutes before she knew she had to return to work.

Looking down the beach, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Mimicking her pose almost exactly, a shaggy-haired blonde stared out at the sea. At a pool's length away, he didn't appear to have noticed her. Kensi thought of going over, talking to him, maybe even asking if they could remain friends. She saw how hunched over he was, the sadness with which he gazed at the horizon.

She left, turning back once to look at him, but never speaking a word.

* * *

Meanwhile, Deeks was enjoying what he knew would be one of his last visits to this part of the coast. He had four weeks to get everything set up for the transfer, but they would be busy weeks. Too busy, even, for many visits to the beach. He'd come to the coast today because his house was full of memories. His own house, and he couldn't even stay there because it reminded him of his partner. He'd heard somewhere about how, near the end of his life, J.R.R. Tolkien and his wife Edith had moved to a house in Bournemouth, England. Edith had died soon after, and Tolkien couldn't bear to stay in that cottage because it reminded him too much of her. He'd moved away and died a couple years later. Deeks shivered even in the summer breeze. It was a depressing thing to think about in the wake of the recent events. Two partners separated and one was never the same. He felt so guilty and idiotic for thrusting this upon Kensi. He hoped she recovered quickly and moved on...and besides, maybe it would be better if she forgot him altogether.

However, he was finding the beach to be little help for his troubled mind. He'd come here with Kensi often. Frustrated at his inability to tear his thoughts away from this whole affair, Deeks picked up a seashell from the sand and prepared to thrust it into the sea. He paused and examined it for a moment, unable to help himself. It was a scallop shell, its ridges tinted with gentle sunset orange. He'd given one to Kensi once on one of their runs along the ocean. He'd been surprised that she liked its soft colors.

Deeks set it carefully back on the sand, then left that place.

That night, it didn't matter which side of the bed he slept on. He was awake the entire night, thinking about everything he didn't want to. Thought...that would be the death of him yet.

* * *

**A/N: Meant for a better plot development in this chapter, but I'm going away for a few days, so I didn't want to keep my awesome audience waiting too long. I'll start working on Chapter Four as soon as I get back, and hopefully then you guys will get to see more of this blackmailer mystery unravel. You didn't think Deeks would just up and leave Los Angeles, did you? Anyway, you readers are greatly appreciated! :D **

**Yours in writing,**

**V.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back! Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! We're up to over fifty follows now, and over twenty reviews. Care to help me get to twenty-five or thirty reviews by the next chapter? It's appreciated, thanks. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Just like to tell myself I do. *snort***

**-V.**

* * *

One week later, all the paperwork had been filled out, and now it was official that Deeks was leaving. Though still in search of an apartment, he'd begun to pack random assortments of items into boxes. He wasn't really sure why he was starting so early; maybe it was because he had nothing else to do. He'd filled out a set of forms and a letter that were now sitting in sealed envelopes on his dining table. Deeks kept trying to work up the courage to go to the OSP and give them to Hetty, but his attempts ultimately failed. He knew that, after all this, turning in his resignation was really no big deal. But he was sure he would see Kensi there, and he wasn't certain he was ready for that just yet.

Of course, packing did this uncertainty no good. He hadn't really realized how many pictures he had of them together. Deeks kept coming across them as he rifled through his things, staging them for packing. Every time he found a photo of him and his partner, he tossed it into a specially-marked box and tried not to spend too much time staring at it. By the end of the week, he'd found eleven in his living room alone - hidden in drawers, displayed on dusty countertops, neatly organized in his single photo album. Some of them were time-stamped by the camera, and Deeks thought it was kind of like reading a story. You could see from the pictures how they had become so much more friendly, more intimate, as time and trust passed between them.

On Monday, exactly ten days since his proposal, Deeks woke up at five AM. He showered, dressed, and brushed his teeth, leaving his hair uncombed as usual. Then, before he could dissuade himself again, he grabbed his resignation forms and car keys. Locking his front door behind him, he got into his car and drove to the "condemned" building where he worked.

It was nearly six in the morning when he approached the desk of Henrietta Lange. He had a lot of memories in this office - asking for that credit card as a newbie, deciding to join his team in leaving for Prague, getting the "intimate undercover assignment" talk from his boss...

He shivered as he recalled that day. "Unfamiliar feelings and emotions..." Oh, he had felt himself stop breathing when she'd said that. Then, he started to silently panic. Of course Hetty knew! She knew everything! He just couldn't figure out how she'd exposed his hidden "feelings and emotions" without his knowledge. Eventually, the issue passed, but Deeks always thought deep down that Hetty really _did _know that he was feeling some rather unprofessional things for his partner.

Today, as was the case with all days, Hetty was in before everyone else. She didn't seem startled at the sight of the detective, merely pleased. She set down her favorite teacup and stared up at him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Deeks," she greeted him mildly. "Have you come in search of a place to sleep? My tapestry is hanging in the filing room."

Deeks chuckled nervously. "Nah, not today," he said with a hint of nostalgia in his unsteady voice. "I, uh...I..."

He fingered the envelopes with his resignations forms inside. "These are..."

Hetty picked up when he trailed off. "...Your resignation paperwork," she finished. "Yes, Mr. Deeks, I figured as much. We will be sad to see you leave us. We wish you the best in San Francisco."

"Thanks," he murmured as he passed her the forms and his gun. "I'll miss it here. Whistles, segways, maybe not the clothes..."

Hetty gave him a smile. "I do hope you have a tolerant boss in your new location, Mr. Deeks."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Deeks questioned, an edge of his cheekiness rolling back into his tone. "I'm very charming, remember?"

Hetty sighed, grinning as she shook her head. After another long sip of tea, she looked him in the eyes. Deeks couldn't help being slightly unnerved.

"Ms. Blye will be very...changed," she said slowly. "I believe she will miss you the most out of all of us."

"I dunno," Deeks shrugged. "I think she'll be fine."

Hetty clucked disapprovingly and drank more of her strong tea, draining the rest of her cup. "You overestimate her. I don't think she will be 'fine' at all, despite whatever has happened between you."

Deeks didn't bother asking where she got her information.

"Well, I'm sure she'll get over it," he said simply, knowing even as he spoke how stupid and uncaring his words were. "Bye, Hetty. Thanks for everything. Tell everyone I said bye."

"Will do, Mr. Deeks," Hetty confirmed with a nod. As the detective turned and began to walk away, she spoke again. This time, her voice was grave and firm.

"Mr. Deeks?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever trouble you're in-"

"I'm not in any trouble."

"My goodness, how ever do you manage to lie for a living?"

"Hey-"

"As I was saying, Mr. Deeks, I know you've found yourself in a bit of a jam. I have yet to be informed how you've come to this or what kind of trouble you've gotten into, but I have advice for you."

"I really don't think anything can help me now, Hetty."

"There is always help, Mr. Deeks," she informed him seriously. "I know this from personal experience. Now, this is my advice to you. Accept it as a gift and listen carefully. There are people who love you on the surface, but when they delve deeper into who you really are, they are repelled. Then there are people who love you to every depth of yourself, who will never be fazed by any part of you. When you must, you need to make the distinction between what kinds of love you are being given. If you are being loved to the depths of yourself, there is no sense in hiding things away. To that person, those things will never matter. Do you understand, Mr. Deeks?"

"Um, I think so. Can I have a summary or something?"

"People who truly love you, Detective, deserve all of your secrets, regardless of how you gauge their reaction."

"Ah."

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Thanks...thanks, Hetty."

"Good day, Mr. Deeks. And don't avoid thinking about this."

"Wouldn't think of it."

And he left.

* * *

When Kensi Blye came into work two hours later, she just knew that Deeks had been there. Maybe it was the way Hetty already seemed drained, even by eight o'clock in the morning. Maybe it was the two fat envelopes on Hetty's desk that their boss hadn't yet touched. Or maybe it was his wallet, which he seemed to have dropped on his way out of the OSP. Yeah, the last one was probably Kensi's biggest clue.

She picked it up and examined it as she walked to the bullpen. It was definitely Deeks's - there was a long scratch on the back leather cover where the detective had used it as a shield in a knife-fight (at least, that was the story he liked to tell). There was exactly $2.15 in cash, which was the exact amount of money it cost to buy them both a donut. There was his ID in one of the pockets, a driver's license in another, but as usual there was no credit card.

Sam and Callen caught sight of the wallet as the junior agent entered the bullpen and strode towards her desk.

"New wallet, Kens?" asked Callen casually.

"Found it on the floor," Kensi replied with a shake of her head.

"You know, if this wasn't the OSP, somebody would've stolen it by now," Callen pointed out.

Sam inquired, "Who's it belong to?"

"No one," lied Kensi quickly. She placed the wallet on her desk. "There's no ID."

"So we have a case," Callen said excitedly.

"Really?" Sam raised his eyebrows as he looked at his partner in wonderment of his childish zeal. "Case of the mysterious wallet?"

"Better than paperwork," Callen said with a small shrug.

"Which you seem to have a mountain of, Mr. Callen."

Hetty strode into the office, the rose-shaped glass pin on her jacket catching the sun. She stopped in the center of the bullpen and looked around at her three agents. After a long moment of only still air between her and her team, she finally spoke.

"I understand that things will be different with the abscence of Mr. Deeks," she began slowly. "However, we cannot let that impact our work as we move on. I know this has not become a problem yet, but I am most certain that it will in the near future. I would like to remind you all that Mr. Deeks would not be happy to hear you are losing your edge because of him."

"Hetty, why didn't Deeks stay?" asked Callen, resting arms on the top of his desk. "Doesn't make any sense."

"Even I am unsure of why he chose to leave," Hetty admitted. "But all we can do is to hope things turn out for the best. Mr. Deeks was a valued member of our team, and though we will mourn his abscence, we will be glad for the team that receives him in San Francisco."

A chill ran up Kensi's spine. _The team that receives him. _She hadn't even thought about that. A new team...a new desk...a new _partner_. She couldn't help it when her jealousy radar started to blare. Over and over again, its sirens howled, _"He's yours, he's yours, he's yours..."_

No, he couldn't be hers, not anymore. Kensi suppressed her jealousy as best she could, but still she found herself distracted as Hetty finished speaking.

"...That is all for now," the minuscule woman concluded. "If any of you would like to talk about the recent events, I will be in my office with a nice, hot cup of tea."

She gave them a half-hearted smile that must've taken a great effort to muster, then walked off. She was slow in getting back to her desk. Hetty's firm and purposeful stride had slackened to a sort of aimless amble. She doubted in her head that she would be of any help to her team in giving them emotional closure, but she did what any good boss would do by extending the offer.

The team returned to work. Today, Kensi was supposed to be organizing her reports for a case that was being taken to court, but she had long ago abandoned that task. Instead, she was surfing the Web on her laptop. To some, it may have looked like she was just goofing off during work. But that wasn't Kensi's style.

She was looking for answers. Maybe Deeks wasn't officially her partner anymore, and maybe things were awkward between them, but she couldn't suppress her suspicion. He was in trouble, but what kind? As Kensi scrolled through what documents she could with just a civilian's security clearance, she hoped to find out.

* * *

It was about noon when she finally gave up. It really was a farfetched search from the start. As Kensi munched on a cold-cut sandwich that Callen had snagged from the nearby deli, she made up her mind to see Bates after work. She hoped he'd be willing to give her some answers. Because when people weren't willing, things tended to get rather sticky.

And it was also about noon when an exasperated Detective Marty Deeks came to the OSP, looking for his wallet. He'd just spent the last two hours scouring his usual stops for where on Earth he'd left the thing. So far, he had narrowed it down to Los Angeles.

"_You've got to be kidding."_

That was what was running through his mind when he spotted his wallet. _On her desk. On _her _desk. _

"_Why not Sam's desk?" _he wondered, furrowing his brow. _"I can handle an ex-SEAL. I just can't handle Kensi."_

Because really, what could he say? "Hi, sorry about springing that question on you. That was pretty sudden, huh? Yeah, my bad, first I probably should've taken you out on at least one date or kissed you or something. Anyway, my wallet's somehow migrated to your desk and I'd really like it back. Thanks. Sorry again about that whole marriage proposal thing. Awk-ward." Yeah, _that_ was going to work.

But he did need his wallet back, so he marched himself into the bullpen. He'd hoped to come back in the evening, after the team had all left, so he could collect his things. In addition to his wallet, he wanted his finger skateboard and a number of other objects he kept in his desk. For now, he'd just settle for the wallet. That would be a challenge in itself.

"Deeks," Callen exclaimed with raised eyebrows. "Late?"

"Funny," Deeks murmured with a struggling smile. "Just came to, uh, get a few things."

His eyes wandered over to his ex-partner's desk, where she sat staring at him. Her eyes were questioning, weary, sad, with a flash of her stubborn anger. Was she as utterly confused as he was? Was she finding it hard to discover where one picks up a friendship with someone you refused to marry?

Darn his emotions for eternity, but he just wanted to hug her. Anything that would make them both feel better right now.

"Kens..." he began softly, swallowing his pride and forcing himself to speak to her. "I'm really...I, uh..."

"Forgot your wallet," Kensi finished nonchalantly, tossing his wallet at him. Deeks, surprised, almost didn't catch it. His heart fell.

"T-Thanks," he told her quietly. He opened his wallet and peered inside. Trying to put on a cheerful face, but only succeeding in stumbling over his own words, he asked, "Hey, Kens. I've got like...um...two dollars and fifteen in here. W-Wanna go get donuts or something?"

Kensi gave him a startled glance, as if she couldn't believe his nerve. The truth was, she couldn't decide if she wanted to talk to him or not. What would hurt her more - a conversation with him, or nothing at all?

And there were his pleading blue eyes, _again,_ boring into her unrelenting gaze. And there went her heart, _again_, melting. She decided to throw caution to the wind and go with the option that included a donut.

"...Fine," she consented grudgingly. Deeks perked and breathed a barely-audible sigh of relief.

To Sam and Callen, Kensi said, "Taking my lunch break with Deeks, guys. I'll be back in thirty."

They nodded, watching as the former partners walked out the door together. The two older agents gave each other wary looks.

"Ten bucks says he'll end up dead," said Callen.

* * *

The drive was silent. Kensi stared out the passenger window, and Deeks tried to focus on the road ahead. Twice he tried to start a conversation, but both times, it fell flat.

"We're here," Deeks said, stating the obvious as he put the car in park.

Walking into the tiny mom-and-pop bakery beside her, he pulled the money out of his wallet. When it was his turn in line, he didn't even ask Kensi what she wanted. He just ordered the chocolate glazed donut for her and a raspberry-filled for himself. Kensi felt a stab in her heart as she remembered just how well he knew her. Were they really going to throw this friendship away?

The cashier handed Deeks the two donuts, and he led Kensi outside. They sat on the curb together. As Kensi munched on her chocolate treat, Deeks began.

"I've done a lot of apologizing this month, haven't I?" he said. She didn't answer, not meeting his eyes. She knew the minute she did, she would be a goner.

"You've got the homicidally-angry look again," he quipped. When she didn't even smile, Deeks sighed and said, "I really am sorry. I...I don't know what I was thinking. It wasn't fair."

"No, it wasn't," Kensi agreed.

Deeks didn't feel like eating his donut anymore. Instead, he continued, "I should've given it time. I guess...I just panicked, because I _don't _have time."

"Then why ask at all?" inquired Kensi gravely, putting aside her pastry for the time being.

"_Man up," _thought Deeks. _"Man up and tell her what she deserves to hear."_

"Because I love you," he breathed. "And I'm sorry that it makes things awkward. But you needed to know while we had a chance left. Once I'm gone...I'm gone, and that's that. I don't want to go, but I have to, and there were things you needed to hear. I love you."

The silence settled like stones in his stomach as he longed for her reply. He savored the image of the moment, should it be their last together: a light, warm breeze stirred Kensi's hair and she squinted in the sunlight. Her donut was clutched in a death-hold. Deeks was always aware - and had been for the entirety of their friendship - that she could kill him without breaking a sweat. But he couldn't help noticing at times like these how beautiful she really was.

When her reply didn't come, he spoke once more.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I am. I should've thought of Jack. I shouldn't have scared you."

Kensi was standing up in a flash, her donut tossed angrily down to the concrete. Glaring at him with eyes that could melt titanium and break diamonds, she hissed venomously, "I. Was. _Not. _Scared."

Oh, man. Rewording time.

But before a correction or another darned apology could leave Deeks's mouth, Kensi had stormed off. Remembering in her haze of fury that Deeks had driven her there, she marched to the bus stop down the street and caught the first bus that pulled up. She didn't even care where it was headed. She just didn't want Deeks to catch up with her.

Leaning the side of her head against the glass of the bus's window, she cried.

Leave it to her pride to ruin any semblance of hope.

* * *

She didn't know how she did it, but Kensi found herself in Lieutenant Bates's office at five o'clock PM sharp. The pleasantly-surprised lieutenant sat leisurely behind his desk, rifling through papers.

"Well, well," he said with a smile. "Special Agent Kensi Blye. Been a while."

"Yes, it has," agreed Kensi stiffly.

"So," continued Bates. "Since I doubt you're here to quit NCIS and join LAPD, this is probably about Deeks."

She felt herself reddening and bit on the inside of her cheek as self-punishment. "Yeah," she answered.

"He's not my problem for much longer," Bates said. "But you're his partner, so he told you already. Honestly, I didn't think he'd take the SFPD job. Maybe they'll like him better there than we did here."

"I came to get answers about that," Kensi informed him, her seasoned-agent tone showing itself in her statement. "Deeks has been acting strange. He said he didn't want to leave Los Angeles, but he never said why. Do you know?"

Bates showed mild confusion. "Haven't heard a thing, but he doesn't talk to me if he can help it. If you ask me, it's a great opportunity. See some sights, travel around, get to know a new city. Detective Cummins was really doing him a favor by recommending him for the job."

Kensi pounced upon the name. "Detective Cummins?"

"Yeah, a great guy down on the second floor," said Bates. "He's funny _and_ he's a good cop. It'd sound like Deeks if you changed 'funny' to 'frustrating'."

"Why did Detective Cummins recommend Deeks for the SFPD opening?" asked the agent.

"Beats me," Bates replied with a shrug. "They used to be partners about two, two and a half years ago. He's probably just doing an old friend a favor; sounds like something Cummins would do."

"...Okay," Kensi said slowly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Anytime, Agent Blye," Bates responded, with little meaning in his words. Kensi left the office.

Before Kensi made the trip back to her house, she decided to pay this Cummins guy a visit. By asking around on the second floor, she found his office. Inside, at the only desk occupied out of the four desks in the room, there sat a lanky man reading a newspaper.

"Detective Cummins?" Kensi guessed, letting herself in. When the man put the newspaper down, she could see his perfectly-combed black hair, his eerily Deeks-like stubble (though Kensi thought Deeks wore it better), and his pointed features. His smile, though white and straight after years of orthodontist work, made Kensi uncomfortable.

"Can I help you?" he asked cheerfully.

"Special Agent Kensi Blye," stated the agent. His eyes lit up at her name. "I am...well, I _was_ Detective Marty Deeks's partner at NCIS. I heard you recommended him for the job with the SFPD."

"Oh, that, yes," recalled Cummins. "I remember telling Bates about that open position. See, as I'm sure you know, Deeks has been in LA for his whole life. I think the poor guy needed a change. Different scenery, different work, different team..."

Kensi ****led. "Different team?" she repeated.

"Well, we often talked when he would come by the office," Cummins explained. "We were partnered, just like you and him, up until a couple years ago. We still chat sometimes. He was complaining about his work at NCIS recently. Said he felt...suffocated."

She tried to keep the bewildered tears from her eyes. Kensi Blye does not cry, and she definitely does not cry in front of strangers.

"Did he say anything...about me?" she asked, voice growing low and dreading.

"Well...Agent Blye, I dunno if you'll want to hear-"

"Say it anyway."

Detective Cummins sighed and slowly said, "He said you two had a bit of a rough partnership. Said you teased him a lot. It was just one of many reasons he complained about work, and another reason that I recommended him for a job out of here. But, as I'm sure you're aware, he accepted the transfer entirely of his own free will..."

Kensi had stopped listening. Deeks was really that offended by her teasing? She thought they had their system all worked out. She never really thought that he would take it personally...

"Excuse me, Detective Cummins," she said, leaving the office quickly. Kensi was able to hold off the tears until she got to her car.

Meanwhile, grinning as he sat in his office, Detective Devlin Cummins flipped open an old case file. It was dated February 2010, back when he and Deeks were partners at LAPD. As he reread the file for the millionth time in the past two years, Cummins's smile dissipated. He'd get what he deserved. He'd have the position he deserved after that 2010 case. No - he'd have even more than that. He'd have revenge on that credit-stealing jester Marty Deeks.

* * *

**Tell me… does it make any sense at all so far? What do you think of this chapter? Sorry it took so long to update. :( I'd love some feedback. Thanks for reading! -V.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Woohoo! Hi, readers! First off, I'd love to say how grateful I am that you helped me reach the story alert/review goals I set. :) Let's keep raising the numbers! Also, are you enjoying the angst? Don't worry, I'll inform you that it gets happier eventually. And "eventually" can't be that far off...I plan two or three more chapters, plus an epilogue if there's enough interest in one.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS: LA, or the song that I'm posting lyrics from, or LA, or San Francisco, or the universe, or, apparently, a decent pair of cutoff jeans.**

**Breakup song lyrics for this chapter: "With You, Without You" by Brad Paisley**

_**And I know you want me to move on,**_

_**Start livin' a new life, **_

_**Stop singin' an old song, **_

_**Don't worry, I ain't gonna ask you,**_

_**To come back and love me,**_

_**Baby you don't have to,**_

_**'Cause I can be in love with you,**_

_**Without you.**_

* * *

It was two weeks until Deeks was scheduled to leave that he found an apartment in San Francisco. The landlord sent him several emailed pictures once Deeks had officially rented the place. It looked, in a word, unappealing. It wasn't some weird under-the-overpass dump where the tap-water was the color of mud. It wasn't some wannabe shed with cobwebs in every corner. It wasn't a motel room with a ****roach problem. Actually, it was a few big steps above those things, for which Deeks was grateful. With its low, flat roof, its gray paint job, and its tiny front lawn with two symmetrically-placed saplings on either side of the front walk, the home was really quite ordinary. That was Deeks's problem with it. It was...boring. Granted, it was a place to live that was within his budget. It was a roof over his head. But it was also in San Francisco, which was one place Deeks really didn't want to be.

Ever since his visit to the bakery with Kensi, his mood had steadily slid downwards. With every box of his things that he sealed, he found himself losing his cheerful demeanor. Every day leading up to the transfer, Deeks's house got emptier and emptier. Sometimes, as he packed, he wondered if he was really ready to leave. The stacks of boxes looming around him reminded Deeks that, ready or not, he had to go. Each night, before he fell asleep, he cursed Richard Cummins in his head. And right before he slipped into slumber, he thought about Kensi and wished he could apologize.

His biggest obstacles while packing were the pictures of him and his partner. He'd been putting them aside, and they had now accumulated into a pile of frames. What to do with them all? While Deeks loved to see his partner's face more than anyone else's in the world, he wasn't sure it would be good to have them in his new house.

So, two weeks before his departure, he took those pictures with him when he went to collect his things from his desk at the OSP. He made sure to time his arrival so that everyone had already gone home - except, that is, for Hetty. After gathering all his belongings from the bullpen and stuffing them into the giant plastic shopping bag he'd purchased just for this purpose, he stopped by his boss's desk.

"Ah, Mr. Deeks," Hetty acknowledged with a tight smile. "Have you found everything that you needed?"

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Hey, Hetty...could I ask you a favor?"

"Of course, Mr. Deeks."

"Could you keep these?" Deeks unloaded the fifteen framed photos of varying sizes that had been crammed tightly into his messenger bag. Oval frames, rectangle frames, small frames, huge frames...one by one, they were laid on Hetty's desk for her to see.

"You don't wish to keep them yourself?" asked Hetty, forcing a note of surprise into her voice. "Are you certain?"

Deeks nodded. "Do you have room for them somewhere?"

Hetty picked up one of the photographs, in which Kensi was playfully aiming her gun at Deeks's head. The detective had his hands raised defensively, but he also sported a white-toothed grin. Hetty allowed a small, sad grin of her own as she examined the image.

"I'm sure there's a space in a safety deposit box for them," Hetty answered.

"But I don't want them back," protested Deeks.

"I see," said Hetty slowly. "Then I will find a place for them elsewhere."

"Thanks," Deeks murmured. "I guess this time, it's really goodbye."

"Who can say, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty wondered aloud. "Perhaps sometime in the future, our paths will cross. Remember your time here."

"Always," he replied.

With a barely-audible "bye," Deeks left her office. The doors of the OSP closed solidly behind him. Deeks had heard the expression that an old chapter closes to open a new one. Right then, however, he couldn't feel like there was a new chapter at all. It was kind of depressing.

You should've seen the way his jaw dropped when he walked into the parking lot.

Well, it didn't really drop. Usually, that doesn't happen in real life when someone is surprised. But he did do a double-take and almost lose his grip on the shopping bag.

There, leaning against the hood of his car, was Kensi.

Except, he'd only seen her in such a state once or twice. Her eyes were bloodshot and wet from sobbing, her nose was as red as Rudolf's, and her shoulders were slumped. Still, she seemed to be trying to regain her composure as Deeks approached. His first instinct was to break the nose of whoever had done this to her. His second instinct was to approach with caution.

"K-Kens?" he stuttered, avoiding her eyes. "What's up?"

The words that came out of her mouth had him in utter shock. "Deeks, I'm so sorry."

"What?" asked Deeks, wrinkling his brow. "What are _you _sorry for?"

She wiped her eyes quickly, obviously ashamed of her tears. "For teasing you."

This didn't succeed in clearing up the detective's confusion. "Why are you sorry for teasing me? We tease each other all the time. It's fun."

"Don't lie to me!" she insisted venomously. "He told me how much it hurt you."

"He? Who's he?" Deeks interrogated, suddenly terrified. A sense of urgency rose inside of him. "Kens, who told you that?"

He came to stand directly in front of her, placing his bag on the pavement. Deeks gently gripped her shoulders and found the courage to meet her eyes.

"Kensi," he repeated. "Who told you?"

Kensi shifted at the closeness, but she didn't break his gaze. "Detective Cummins from LAPD," she answered.

Deeks paled. "You talked to _Cummins_?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"I was suspicious," Kensi admitted. "You were acting weird. You said you didn't want to go to San Francisco. I thought you were in trouble, Deeks."

He chose not to answer that last part. "What else did he tell you?"

She shrugged. "Not much. But he said...that you were telling him that you felt suffocated at NCIS. That you said we had a rough partnership."

Anger blazed in Deeks's eyes. "That sorry little-"

"Deeks," she interrupted. "You mean you didn't really say those things?"

Deeks's face softened and he felt tears sting his eyes. "Kensi..." he murmured. "You think I'd say that?"

She shook her head reluctantly. "But why would Cummins tell me that?" she asked concernedly. "Deeks, you need to tell me right now: what kind of trouble are you in?"

The detective squirmed. Here she was, posing the dreaded question. Should he let her in on it? If he did, she would know everything - that case with Cummins in January 2010 that went awry, that fling with the female partner he'd gotten after Cummins...none of that news was anything Deeks wanted to tell Kensi.

"I want to help you," she insisted.

"Do you?" he asked. "I mean...after what I asked you in the courtyard..."

She put up a hand to stop him. "Not now," she said. "Right now, we've got to get you out of trouble."

Deeks ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know if you can help me, Kens."

The last lines of Cummins's letter ran across his mind. _I swear, Deeks, if you go to _anyone _about this - NCIS, LAPD, friends, family, girlfriends, your legendary boss - it won't do you any good. The word will be out before you know it. It'll be suicide, so don't even try. Remember your NCIS partner, Marty. You remember what I can tell her. And you remember that bullet in my knee, Deeks. Don't you ever forget it. _

He didn't forget it in that moment with Kensi. "I can't...I can't take your help right now, Kens."

Kensi's face fell. "I need to help you, Deeks. Why can't you just let me?" She fixed their eyes in an iron stare. "Are you sure Cummins was lying? Are you sure you don't really feel suffocated here?"

She breezed past him and walked down the sidewalk, turning a corner to find her own car. Deeks, meanwhile, closed his eyes and stood on the asphalt for a single disconcerted second. Letting out a huge breath of defeat, he climbed into his vehicle and revved the engine to life. It was several more seconds of his forehead on the steering wheel before he got up the energy to leave. All of a sudden, he just felt so tired, so drained. He couldn't remember feeling like this since after he was shot at the convenience store.

If it meant he got his energy back and this pain would go away, maybe it would be good for him to leave for San Francisco.

* * *

Kensi, of course, wasn't packing her things, because she wasn't leaving. But her house felt empty nonetheless. She didn't know that Deeks was feeling just the same way over in his apartment.

In her time off from work, Kensi found herself pacing her living room. Her favorite reality shows failed to entertain her lately, and she couldn't make herself focus on a book or a magazine. As she loitered around her house, she absentmindedly gathered the dirty dishes off the coffee table and placed them in the sink. After about an hour of anxious emptiness, Kensi realized how much cleaner her house was.

"_I'm so bored that I'm _cleaning_," _she thought with alarm. _"What's wrong with me?"_

So when Nell invited Kensi to a night on the city - a new comedy movie in theaters and ice cream - the junior agent jumped at the opportunity to get her mind off Deeks. That Friday night, two days before Deeks planned to leave Los Angeles, Kensi and Nell met at a downtown theater.

As they stood in the snack line, Nell mentioned, "You've been pretty quiet tonight."

"What?" asked Kensi, startled. She laughed. "Sorry. I'm fine."

"I'm an analyst," Nell reminded her friend. "You're not fine."

"You analyze _data_, not people," Kensi replied. "And yes, I _am _fine."

"You know, everyone's upset about Deeks," said Nell casually as they approached the register. She briefly turned to the cashier and told him, "Two medium popcorns and soft drinks, please."

"Why are we talking about Deeks?"

"I was talking about popcorn," said Nell. "But we're talking about Deeks because that's why you've been so quiet."

"Look, I'm upset about Deeks, sure. He was my partner. But it'll get better, and I really will be fine. Let's just enjoy the movie, okay?"

Nell gave a hesitant nod as she paid for their refreshments. The conversation drifted to their normal topics, such as work, family, and the mysteriousness of Hetty. But the analyst was right; Kensi's mind was only half on the conversation. The other half couldn't stop thinking about that stupid, shaggy detective.

The movie was hilarious. It'd gotten raving reviews from esteemed critics, and it wasn't hard to see why. But Kensi barely laughed at the jokes. In that moment, she hated him for being so hard to get off her mind. She wanted to enjoy herself, but ever since that proposal, childish "what-if-we-were-married?" daydreams kept floating through her head.

Later, as she and Nell enjoyed ice cream at a place down the street from the theater, the analyst decided she'd had enough of Kensi's silence.

"This thing with Deeks is really hard for you, huh?" Nell guessed.

Kensi took a minute before responding, "We're best friends, Nell."

"Yeah, but what about your 'thing'?"

"Nell, how do you know about that?!" Kensi demanded, eyes widening.

"Do you remember that case where we had to act like Deeks was fired?"

"Of course I remember it." It had been one of the most painful cases in her life.

"You remember when you got in Deeks's car right before the raid and he said he was protecting your 'thing' by lying to you?"

"Yes, but how do you-"

"Earwigs."

"Ah."

"Yeah, Eric and I heard everything."

Kensi felt an uncharacteristic blush rising to her face.

"So, do you like him too?" Nell asked.

Kensi closed her eyes, savoring the taste of rocky road ice cream on her tongue. She took several deep breaths, considering the question and her answer. All that banter and not-so-subtle flirting...plus the moments where Deeks didn't even try to hide how he felt.

"_I'm going to be with you every step of the way...even if you don't see me, I'll be there."_

"_I was protecting you - us - our... our thing."_

"_Don't scare me like that! I thought something happened to you."_

So she said, in all due truthfulness, "Yeah."

Nell's face softened. "Is that why you're so upset, then?"

Kensi thought for another minute, then shook her head with a sad smile. "Part of the reason, I guess."

"Well, what's the other part?"

"He...um...well, he..." Kensi inhaled sharply. "He proposed."

Nell nearly spewed her frozen yogurt across the laminated booth table. "_What_?! Like, marriage?"

"Yeah," Kensi replied quietly.

"When?"

"About four weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell the team? Kens, that's great!"

Kensi sighed. "Because...because I said no."

Again, Nell narrowly avoided spraying her yogurt. "Why? You love him!"

Kensi felt like an assailant had stuck a knife through her heart. "I-I know."

The analyst set down her plastic spoon. With sincerity, she apologized, "Sorry, Kens. What happened?"

"I..." Kensi swallowed nervously. "I got scared."

"Because of Jack?"

"I guess, yeah. Deeks even called me out on it, but...I didn't listen."

There weren't any tears in Kensi's eyes, but she still felt as if she were crying. "Why am I so stubborn, Nell?"

Nell was silent, figuring it was time to be the listener and not the talker.

"I think he's in trouble, too," Kensi continued. "I think that's why he's leaving, but he won't tell me what kind of trouble he's in. I...I want to help him, but if he doesn't let me, I can't."

"Trouble?" repeated Nell.

"Yes," Kensi nodded. "I went to LAPD, and some detective named Cummins lied to me about why Deeks was leaving. I don't know what's going on, but I think Cummins is in on it."

"Well, what're you going to do?" Nell asked.

"I don't know," Kensi said resignedly, rubbing her forehead with her hand. "All I really want to do is take back my answer to his proposal."

"So, um, why don't you?"

"What?"

"Why don't you just go take it back?"

"I don't even know where Deeks is. He could be crashing at a friend's place, he could be in San Francisco already. He was supposed to leave any day now."

"I think you should go find him," Nell suggested.

"Is this a chick flick? I'll never find him."

Nell shrugged. "I like chick flicks."

Kensi stared down at her rocky road ice cream, the marshmallows providing white islands amidst the chocolate. "So does Deeks," she said.

Rising from her chair, she quickly slipped her bag onto her shoulder. "I'll try."

"Want me to go back to Ops?" asked Nell. "I use Kaleidoscope to find his car."

Both laughed, knowing that the misuse of agency tech was illegal.

"I'll be fine on my own," Kensi assured her. "Thanks, though."

"Good luck."

* * *

For the entire drive from the ice cream shop to Deeks's apartment, Kensi kept the radio on. It blared her favorite techno music as Kensi tried to motivate herself. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like the current in the sea. It was about twenty minutes before she pulled up in front of Deeks's apartment building. She searched for his windows among those of his neighbors, but found they were darkened.

Already feeling dread in the pit of her stomach, she climbed out of her car and rushed to the stairwell door. Climbing three flights of muddy steps, she arrived at his door, apartment C-2.

Before she could stop herself, she rapped loudly on the door. There was no answer, no noise at all from inside. Kensi knocked again and rang the doorbell. And once more, she was met with silence. Deflated but determined, she punched the bell and held it down for a good thirty seconds. A bee-like buzzing screamed inside the apartment as she refused to take her finger off the doorbell. If Deeks was home, the cacophony of the knocking and the buzzer would bring him to the door.

It didn't.

What was the use? His doormat was gone, as was his umbrella stand and the tacky sign with the bumblebee saying "WELCOME!" He was gone. There was no trace of him left; she'd been too late.

Kensi sighed and closed her eyes, sitting with her back against his doorframe. She let her eyes drift to the apartment door, C-3, that belonged to one of Deeks's neighbors. There was a fake potted ficus beside it. She'd never seen the appeal of faux plants - were they merely for gardeners who had no talent whatsoever?

Kensi stood, rang Deeks's doorbell one more time, and then sat down in defeat. She toyed with the little pebbles in the fake plant's pot, letting them sift through her fingers. Kensi took some of the tiny stones and rested them in her palm. Then she began to arrange them where Deeks's doormat had been just a few weeks ago when she visited for a movie night.

She organized the white pebbles into three letters, one word that she'd come to say. One word that was on the tip of her tongue and meant for him, if only he'd been a little slower in leaving.

"Y-E-S".

* * *

About five minutes away, Deeks sat at his favorite seaside restaurant. It'd been a while since he'd last been here. He had always loved this place; it was a tiny outdoor eatery that offered a great view of the ocean. Named "Siren's Rock," it was only well-known amongst the locals, which was something Deeks valued in a restaurant.

It was his second-to-last night in L.A., and his last night in his apartment. His sleeping bag was all set up in his otherwise-empty bedroom. It remained as one of his last belongings in the apartment. This seemed such a foreign concept to him, leaving. But as he munched on a Caesar salad, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. He was leaving a lot of history behind him in Los Angeles, but in San Francisco, he'd be free of Cummins and his own secrets.

Still, part of him wished he could have told Kensi. He wished she could have helped him. He wished he could stay. He wished she'd said yes.

He couldn't have known that, five minutes away at his apartment door, she was saying yes right now.

**Let me know what you're thinking as we near the end of the series! -V.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the terrible delay! D: School's back again and everything went *poof*. I'm sure you know the feeling. -_- I hope you enjoy this chapter...we're getting close to the end! I plan for at least one more chapter after this. In your comments, please don't forget to mention if you'd like to see an epilogue. If there's interest, I'll be glad to oblige. :)**

**Interesting fact: The very beginning of the bullpen scene in this chapter has been a plot bunny in my head for a long time. I haven't had a story to use it in until now. :)**

**Disclaimer: Shane Brennan owns the characters and the rest of the show. I write fanfiction to make myself feel better about that. It's therapy.**

**Song lyrics for this chapter: "She's Everything" by Brad Paisley **

**_She's everything I ever wanted_**

_**And everything I need**_

_**I talk about her, I go on and on and on**_

_**Cause she's everything to me.**_

* * *

Detective Marty Deeks drained the last of the liquid from his beer glass and placed it on the laminated surface of the table. This was his favorite spot out of the Siren's Rock Restaurant's scenic seating. This table was set up on the patio that faced the ocean, and Deeks always enjoyed eating with the seaside breeze ruffling his hair. Now, the sun had set, and that breeze had begun to turn chilly. Deeks decided it was time to pay the bill and walk home.

"Did you enjoy your salad, Marty?" asked the waitress as she came to take his empty plate and glass away.

"Yeah," nodded the detective. "Thanks, Sara."

"That'll be..." Sara did a quick calculation on a little handheld machine. "Fourteen forty-nine, for the beer and the Caesar."

Deeks handed her a twenty dollar bill and invited her to keep the change. Sara paused after accepting the money, waiting for Deeks's usual flirty comment, but it never came. He just spun a stray nickel with his fingers and waited for her to leave.

"Something wrong, Marty?" she inquired. "You've been quiet tonight. No suggestive compliments or anything. No going around and telling each waitress that she's your favorite."

He flashed her a smile with a hint of his old cheekiness, but the energy was gone. "Long day, Sara. Long week. Screw that, long month."

"Another crazy ex?" guessed Sara, who was used to Deeks's 'girl troubles'.

Deeks sighed. "Nope. Unfortunately."

"Who was she, then?"

"It has to be a she?"

"Marty, with you, it's _always _a she."

He considered debating, but decided against it. It was, after all, usually true.

"She was my partner," he answered slowly. "At work."

Deeks preferred to keep his occupation away from conversation. He didn't elaborate on anything he didn't have to - after his shooting, he took every precaution to keep his hide safe.

"Work partner?" groaned Sara. "You fooled around with your _work partner_?"

"I did _not _fool around, Sara!" exclaimed Deeks loudly, attracting the glances of many fellow patrons. He lowered his voice. "I...made a mistake, that's all."

"Asked her to be your girl?"

"Kinda. Asked her to marry me."

The waitress let out a low whistle. "New peak for you, Marty. I'm guessing she said no?"

"Would I be depressed if she said yes?"

"Good point. So, what's she like? She must be something special, huh?"

Deeks pushed the nickel around on the table absentmindedly. Without meeting Sara's hazel eyes, he began softly, "She's amazing. But she won't let you tell her that, or she'll kill you. We fight all the time, and her idea of apologizing is a beer and a burger."

Sara laughed. "Sounds like your kind of girl."

"Yeah," he agreed, a nostalgic smile on his troubled face. "She's a lot of fun to tease, but she'll punch me when I do. She's a complete sugar freak, and she never gains a pound. Not one pound - nada, zip, zilch, rien."

"Lucky."

"She likes _Top Model_ and reality shows, which is ironic because she's a complete tomboy. And her favorite movie is _Titanic_, but to tell the truth..." he sighed again. "I always thought it was kind of cute. And, like I said, she'd punch me for saying that. You know, she acts like she doesn't care about my relationships...but you should see her get all worked up when I flirt with anyone. Then she does the exact same thing, and I swear she knows how jealous I get. See, the thing is, we aren't even supposed to have the thing we have. Because we're work partners."

"So why'd you ask her to marry you, then?" wondered Sara aloud.

"I'm leaving L.A.," Deeks explained.

"That's a shame," Sara said sympathetically. "What's the occasion?"

"Work," he answered. "Work and...complicated things. But I love her, really, not like all those other girls. So I asked her. She said no. I think I scared her, which had been a completely impossible concept till then. This...it's kind of a mess."

"Yeah, it sounds like it," replied Sara. She counted out the change for the twenty dollars he'd handed her. "I know you said to keep the change, but why don't you buy her some chocolates or something? I know it won't fix everything, but she likes sugar, right? So buy her some candy. You know, as a goodbye present."

Deeks accepted the money back hesitantly. "Thanks, Sara. G'night."

"Night, Marty," she said. "We'll miss you here at Siren's Rock."

He looked out at the ocean, its familiar waters caressing wet sand. "I'll miss it here, too."

It was a relatively short walk back to his apartment. Deeks was a little lightheaded from the two beers he'd had at Siren's Rock, but not enough to make him appear drunken. He'd purposely avoided that so he could somewhat concentrate on the oceanside view. It may, after all, be the last time on this beach.

Deeks felt a tug at his heart when the journey home was over. Climbing the stairs to his apartment, his feet felt leaden and his eyes drooped. He unlocked his apartment, stepped inside, and promptly fell asleep on top of the sleeping bag in his room.

* * *

The next morning saw him throwing the last of his personal belongings into an old cardboard box. Deeks pulled a long piece of packing tape from a thick roll, wincing slightly at the sharp sound it made. Sealing the box, he sighed and looked around his empty apartment. He wasn't leaving the city until the next day, but tonight he'd be staying in a hotel. Deeks lifted the heavy box and, making sure he had the house key that he was going to give to his landlord, walked to the front door. To turn the handle, he had to shift the box into one arm, and he nearly dropped it at what he saw outside.

At first, it just looked like rocks outside of his door - little white pieces of gravel that stood out against the grey stone of the floor tiles. Next, he wondered how they'd gotten there. And lastly, he realized there was rhyme and reason to their placing.

Granted, their placing had been mussed from when Deeks had stepped on them while he went into his apartment last night. He had been too tired, and the building had been too dark. He hadn't seen them. But now he was seeing them as clear as day, and he didn't know how to react.

"Y-E-S."

"Yes," he read aloud. "Yes?"

Then it dawned on him who had left them.

"Yes!" he shouted unbelievingly, both repeating the word in the rocks and yelling in joy. He dropped the box next to his door, shoved the apartment key in his pocket, and scrambled down stairs as quick as he could.

His fingers drummed anxiously on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the Los Angeles traffic. "Come on, come _on_," he muttered at the driver in front of him. Honking his horn, he swerved around the car.

It was after several such risky passes that Deeks arrived at the OSP building. His car screeched to a stop in the parking space closest to the front door (he didn't really care that it was Assistant Director Granger's). He burst into the Office of Special Projects without stopping to heed the stares of surprised coworkers. Deeks was on a mission.

He marched himself down to the bullpen, where he could see Sam and Callen "hard at work" behind their desks. For a single fleeting moment, Deeks thought he'd missed her, and his heart sank like the title ship in the movie Kensi loved.

But...wait. He caught a glimpse of a green tank-top and a dark brown ponytail. There she was behind the wrought-iron dividers that walled in the bullpen. Deeks's hopes rose again, and his hands began to sweat as he swiftly walked the last few steps.

It all happened in one fluid motion: barely breaking his stride, he came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist. He didn't even say a word as he turned her around and pulled her into a kiss.

There was a dangerous instant at first where Kensi could have killed him. Then she realized who he was, and her hand went from her gun holster to his neck. He must've found her message. To be honest, though, that was the last thing on her mind.

It was a little bit awkward for the two other agents in the bullpen. Sam, as usual, disguised his shock with terrifying calm and a sly smile. Callen, on the other hand, was watching with widened eyes and raised brows. He and Sam shared a look, and G's astonished half-gape changed into a smirk.

"_Oh, let them tease us," _Kensi thought dismissively. _"I'm marrying him. I'll kiss him if I want."_

Finally, Kensi and Deeks broke apart, though he kept her in his arms.

"This would be a really bad time to tell me you weren't the one arranging the rocks," he mentioned, and Kensi laughed.

"Don't worry," she assured him.

"Is there something we should know about?" asked Callen from his desk. "Kens, you haven't hit him yet."

Kensi looked to Deeks to give the explanation. He drew in a deep breath and looked their team leader in the eye. "We're engaged."

Sam snickered, while Callen leaned back in his chair. "What's next? Eric shooting a three-pointer?"

"We're serious," Kensi insisted. "Why would I let him kiss me if we were joking?"

Callen contemplated this. "So you're really engaged? Deeks is leaving."

"That's why I asked her," Deeks offered as an explanation. "It's a long story. First she said no, and then she realized she'd made the worst decision of her entire life, and then she said yes."

"Hey!" This time, Kensi did hit him. "You just got out of the doghouse. Don't make me put you back in, Deeks."

His eyes widened. "Don't do _that_!"

She smiled smugly. "Only if you behave," she said, and the corners of her smile drooped. She looked guiltily down at her feet, and closed her eyes. How could she ever say how sorry she was to have allowed such a mess to happen in the first place? How could she ever tell him how little she deserved the perpetually chipper, scruffy, grinning man that had his arms around her waist? Kensi decided that she couldn't, not as much as he deserved, at least. But she decided to start in small steps anyway.

"Deeks," she murmured, feeling his gaze on her. "I made a mess out of this. I screwed up, okay? And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" he repeated, scoffing. "I'm the one who's sorry, Kens. _I _should be asking you to forgive _me_."

Callen looked like he couldn't believe his ears. Glancing at his partner, he asked sincerely, "Am I watching a chick flick, Sam?"

"Okay, okay," Kensi said with a small laugh. "We're done."

"Deeks," said Sam. "Why are you still here?"

"But I just got here-"

"In L.A."

"Oh."

Callen stared inquiringly at the detective. "Yeah, what about San Francisco?"

Kensi was close enough to notice him squirm. "Deeks, enough with the cover-ups," she insisted. "You need to tell me what's going on."

He met her commanding eyes with his own wearied blue ones. "All right," he conceded. "I know. Sit down and I'll tell you."

She obeyed, taking a seat behind her desk. Deeks wheeled his own chair up next to hers and grasped her hand softly. He savored the sensation of her fingers between his, a feeling he thought he'd never have.

"Okay," he began. "First, you have to agree to something."

"Anything, Deeks."

Kensi quickly corrected herself when she caught his mischievous grin. "Anything _appropriate._"

"You have to promise not to be too mad at me."

She barely hesitated. Taking in his pleading face, she answered, "Of course."

Deeks recalled his recent conversation with Hetty as he took a deep breath. What he was about to say wouldn't be easy. The woman's words resounded in his mind:

"_Then there are people who love you to every depth of yourself, who will never be fazed by any part of you. When you must, you need to make the distinction between what kinds of love you are being given. If you are being loved to the depths of yourself, there is no sense in hiding things away. To that person, those things will never matter."_

"In January two years ago, I was partnered with a guy named Detective Richard Cummins," he began. "We never really got along. He was too serious, so you can see where the problem was. Anyway, about two months after we were partnered, we were investigating a victim's house. Cummins found the kidnapper we were searching for; he was hiding in the bathroom. Cummins shot him, then went back through the house to find me. I was down the hallway. I...had cleared the room. I swear, Kensi, I never saw the grunt-work guy in the closet..." Deeks's eyes were forlorn at the memory. She clutched his hand tighter. "Cummins walked into the room I'd cleared. He got shot, Kens, _twice_. Once in the kneecap, and once above the heart. He was lucky he didn't die right there. I shot the grunt and killed him on the spot. But after that, Cummins was out of LAPD for months while he recovered."

"Is that why he's mad at you, Deeks?" asked Kensi.

"Partly, yeah," he said. "That wasn't all. Backup came, the EMTs got Cummins, Bates found the dead kidnapper that Cummins had shot. Except, when I wrote my report, I messed up the timeline. It all happened really fast, Kens. I wrote my report the same day, and I must've gotten the order of events mixed up. It ended up looking like _I'd _killed the kidnapper after his grunt had shot Cummins. I got the credit for killing both of the bad guys. It wouldn't have been such a big deal, but LAPD had been after that kidnapper for months. I think...I think it was one of the things that put me on Hetty's radar."

Kensi shut her eyes, just feeling Deeks hand and hearing his shaky breath.

"And Cummins blamed you for stealing the credit," she whispered.

"By the time I noticed the error in my report, I'd already turned it in," he explained. "And...and I don't think I wanted to take it back."

Nobody said anything, and Deeks went ahead with the rest of his story.

"But Cummins didn't have any proof I hadn't killed our bad guys," he explained. "He was really ticked. Since he was recovering, I got a new partner. I think you guys met her once, during the human trafficking case." Deeks lowered his voice, remembering her face. "She died."

"Yeah, I remember her," Kensi nodded. "Wasn't her name June or Jen or something?"

"Jess," confirmed Deeks. "Trayner."

"That dirty cop said you had a thing for her," Callen reminded them. Deeks and Kensi both winced at the usage of the word 'thing'.

"Well..." _Now's the hard part, _thought Deeks as he spoke. "It wasn't really a 'thing'. More like...uh...more like a fling."

Kensi's eyelids shot open and she stared at him in shock and hurt. Deeks heartbeat accelerated nervously as he looked at her with an apology in his eyes. Remembering their one rule, Kensi tried to keep herself from yelling at him.

"Thought he was lying," commented Sam.

Deeks slowly shook his head. "I wish I could say he was. It was only for a month, but, uh...it's still kind of against LAPD rules. Don't ask me how Cummins found out about it, but he did."

"He's blackmailing you," Callen said, realization dawning on his face. A TV14 word flew from his mouth.

"I can't believe this!" exclaimed Kensi, following suit. "But that's what happened, isn't it, Deeks?"

"Yeah," he answered. "It is. Cummins wanted my NCIS position. He got me a position at SFPD and said that if I didn't take it, he'd tell Kensi about the Jess Trayner situation. He recommended himself for the NCIS-LAPD liaison job."

Kensi squeezed Deeks's fingers so hard that he yelped in pain.

"What was that for?" he squeaked.

"I'm angry at Cummins," she growled. "How could he do that?"

Deeks shrugged. "I don't know. What...what do we do now?"

Kensi looked at him in surprise. "We go get him, right guys?"

Callen and Sam nodded in unison, and Deeks grinned.

"This is great! We're getting the team back together!" he exclaimed.

"We haven't even been broken up that long," said Callen.

"Yeah, whatever. Now let me get my blackmail letter, and we'll go get Cummins."

* * *

**Review, please! Again, sorry for the wait. Was it worth it? -V.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Last chapter before the epilogue! Enjoy! (I know it isn't as long as the others, but I hit the conclusion and didn't want to go any farther.) No song lyrics tonight because I'm too sleepy. XD Sorry. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own it. I'm also too sleepy to type something clever here.**

* * *

If you had happened to be at one of the delis on the corner of a mid-Los-Angeles street, you would've been greeted with quite an odd spectacle. Driving twenty over the speed limit was a black sedan, with an angry-looking brunette at the wheel. In the passenger seat was a blond guy who looked like he'd purposefully mussed his hair. They kept exchanging glances and debates like they wanted to kill each other or kiss each other, maybe both. In the backseat were two more passengers - a frustrated man with a faded haircut and a muscled, bald African American. Faded-Haircut Guy looked rather unpleased to be sitting in the back, and he was practically talking with his hands as he flailed them about. Muscle Dude just seemed irritated as he sulked in the corner of his seat. Blonde Mussy-Haired Man was waving a piece of lined paper in Faded-Haircut Guy's face, and Angry Brunette was shouting a comment back at them, her eyes trained on the road. If you were on that Los Angeles street corner, you might have seen all this in an instant.

If you'd been able to listen to their conversation, you would have gathered that they were debating the fastest way to get to the LAPD and what they would do once they got there.

It didn't matter, in the end. Kensi practically smothered the brake pedal as the sedan swerved into the LAPD parking lot. As the team piled out, Callen's door slammed into the side of the car parked next to them. The senior agent swore.

Sam looked at the placard on the curb in front of that parking space. "That's Cummins's car, G."

"Oh," Callen suddenly seemed very pleased with himself. "Okay, then."

Under any other circumstances, Deeks would've snickered or jammed the door into Cummins's car a second time. But under any other circumstances, he wouldn't be about to arrest Cummins, either.

Deeks felt an uncharacteristic solemnity come over him as they stood in the parking lot. His hands trembled slightly as he held the blackmail letter in his hands, mentally cursing the words that lay on the lines. Kensi faced him and forced him to meet her eyes. When he did, they were grave but encouraging.

"Hey, you can do this," she said softly. "Kay, partner?"

He gazed steadily back at her. "Kay," he repeated. Then, he gave her a small but _very _characteristic Deeks-grin. "Can you kiss me first?"

"I'll cut you a deal," Kensi began slowly. "I'll kiss you as soon as we get Cummins arrested, got it?"

His eyes, though weary, sparkled mischievously. "Got it."

She gave his check a gentle shove backwards. "Come on, let's go."

Rounding up Sam and Callen, the group of agents (and a detective) entered the :APD building, heading for the stairwell. They seemed intimidating enough, even Deeks, as they marched up the steps to the third floor. It was there that they found Bates's office, familiar to two of the team and foreign to the others.

"Deeks," stated Bates tonelessly as the detective and his NCIS team entered the room. "What're you doing here?"

He looked up and took in Kensi, Sam, and Callen with only moderate surprise. "And why'd you bring _them_?"

"Bates, I have something you need to see," Deeks said firmly, suddenly feeling a bit like a tattle-tale in elementary school. He felt his stupid hands trembling again before Kensi subtly took one of them and joined their fingers. He was doing this for her and for him. For them and what they could become. For the future he didn't think he deserved to dream of having.

Deeks slipped the blackmail letter onto Bates's desk. it sat there as if unmovable, and he knew the decision had been made. San Francisco was no longer an option.

"What's this?" Bates was unimpressed by the folded sheet of wrinkly paper. Still, he took it in his own hands and smoothed it out. Once it was readable, he scanned the lines quickly. Only when he got to the middle of the letter did his eyes grow any wider. Bates's free hand raked over his scalp. He was shaking his head as he neared the end, but everything changed when he read the signature. When he did, the lieutenant rose from his chair and curled his fingers venomously around the letter's edges.

With a cold glance at the four law enforcers, Bates uttered a single word - "Downstairs."

They did not hesitate in following him to Cummins's office.

It was Deeks who took the letter from Bates, drew a deep breath, and barged into the room. It was Deeks who advanced to the sinister cop's dest, where the perpetrator sat smirking. It was Deeks who shoved that letter into the man's face.

And it was Deeks who spat, "Harassment."

Of course, it was Sam, Callen, and Kensi who caught Cummins as he tried to flee the room. And it was a random cop in the background that followed Bates's orders and cuffed the blackmailer, who was no longer smirking.

The senior agents clapped Deeks on the back as Cummins was led away, but the surfer didn't smile. Instead, he moved past his team and caught up with Bates and the dirty cop.

"Hey," Deeks said, walking backwards in front of them to make eye contact with his blackmailer. "Cummins."

"Yes, yeah, Deeks," Cummins looked like he could have shot Deeks right there, and he probably would've if he hadn't been restrained. "You guys got me. But I swear, your girlfriend will find out about Jess Trayner..."

"She already knows, Cummins," Deeks informed him. "Don't bother. I, uh...I know this sounds weird, but...I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got shot and I'm sorry I took credit for your bust. It probably doesn't help, but I didn't mean to do either of those things, y'know."

Richard Cummins stared long and hard at the shaggy, innocent-looking detective with the crush on the brunette NCIS agent. He saw the man that hadn't caught the shooter hiding in the closet. He saw a hospital room and months of physical therapy. He saw pain. He saw Deeks's happiness, his team, his exclusive position as a liaison. Cummins saw what he thought should have been his future, and he saw the harsh reality of a jail cell and a handwritten blackmail letter. All of this he saw, and the only things he heard were Deeks' words. _"I didn't mean to do either of those things." _He heard words he could've said in return, if only his heart weren't so cold.

Instead, Cummins gave a short nod that said everything he needed to. Deeks nodded back, and they never spoke again. The detective would see his blackmailer at the trial and sentencing, but for now, their paths would uncross and continue in different directions. Perhaps they'd come to an intersection again one day. Perhaps, but "perhaps" is not a certainty.

Kensi ran up to Deeks as the perpetrator and Bates disappeared into the stairwell. "You did good, partner," she informed him, even adding a congratulatory punch to the shoulder. Deeks grinned back at her.

"So..." his voice trailed off.

"So?" she repeated.

"I think you owe me something, Fern." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, yeah. But only if you tell me something first."

"That's not fair; you can't change the-"

"Did you really love Jess Trayner?"

Deeks let the question hang in the air like clothes on a line. He could see Jess's smiling, seductive face in front of him again, but he quietly ushered her away. In his head, he told her, _"Sorry, Jess. You can leave now." _And the Detective Trayner he'd known turned and walked away.

There was only Kensi left.

"No," he whispered. Kensi didn't exactly smile, but the relief wasn't hidden on her face when she kissed him.

It felt good to be able to do that.

"I have another question for you, Deeks," Kensi told him when they'd parted.

"And what's that, Sugar Bear?"

She let the name slide and asked her question. "What'd you tell Cummins just now?"

"I...I told him I was sorry."

Kensi was, evidently, taken aback. "Why the heck would you do that?! He's a complete-" she cut off and went on a short swearing fest.

"I know," Deeks agreed. "But if I didn't apologize...I wouldn't be any better than he was."

His partner contemplated this. "That's pretty deep, Deeks..." she murmured, then grinned. "Am I gonna have to deal with that every day once we're married?"

"Probably not," admitted the detective. "I promise I'll go back to stupid jokes and bantering as soon as we leave the building."

Honestly, he felt lucky that he'd found someone who actually preferred his immature behavior over philosophical thinking. There wasn't a thing about Kensi he _didn't _love, actually. The arguing. The sweet tooth. The flirting. The irritation. Underneath it all, the love.

"Good," she affirmed. "That's the idiot I said yes to."

And the name-calling. Always the name-calling.

* * *

**Aaaand...cut! That's the end of the main series, now onto the epilogue! It should be up soon! Please review and tell me what you thought. I hope you liked reading as much as I liked writing. Smiles and a big shining thanks to each of you1 -V. **


	8. Epilogue

**And here it is, the inevitable last chapter! I hope it's fulfilling. As always, I'd love it if you let me know what you think. :) -V.**

** Disclaimer: Though I had fun writing this story, NCIS:LA isn't mine.**

** Epilogue song lyrics: "I Swear" by John Michael Montgomery**

**_I swear_**

**_ By the moon and the stars in the sky_**

**_ I'll be there_**

**_ I swear_**

**_ Like the shadow that's by your side_**

**_ I'll be there_**

**_ For better or worse, 'til death to us part_**

**_ I'll love you with every beat of my heart_**

**_ I swear_**

* * *

You know, weather doesn't miraculously become beautiful when there's a marriage taking place. Storm clouds don't really care about the union of two parties, even if those two parties are Kensi and Deeks. So, outside the walls of the beautiful church, rain flew in undecided patterns, marking one of Los Angeles's few yearly storms.

Inside, however, everything was sunny.

The blushing bride, who was decidedly _not _blushing, stood in the back of the building. Kensi appeared as cool and confident as she'd ever been on any mission. But underneath, she had to admit, she was jittery with excitement. Turning her attention to the elegantly-cut diamond ring on her left hand, she took a deep breath. Kensi looked up and gazed steadily down the red-carpeted aisle. There was her mother in the front pew, and her grandparents on her father's side. Facing her were the three bridesmaids, Deeks's groomsmen, the priest, and of course...

_"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me..."_

There had never been a more inconvenient time for Deeks to disappear.

Kensi knew it was rather improper to curse to one's self on their wedding day, but she couldn't help it. Everything was perfect (all right, except for the weather) and in place. Five months of work had gone into this one morning, not to mention one arrest and a blackmail fiasco. Kensi usually didn't feel entitled to much, but she knew that she and Deeks at least deserved _this_. The organist was awaiting his cue. Where the heck was her fiancee?

"I am going to _kill him_," Kensi mumbled through gritted teeth as Callen made his way down one of the side aisles. He had volunteered to walk her up to the altar.

"At least marry me first," came the unexpected response. Kensi whipped around, her veil settling back over her perfectly-brushed hair.

She was very good at hiding her gape at the sight of Deeks. His suit was pressed precisely at every crease, making it probably the only ironed outfit he'd ever worn. His hair was still at its usual length and style, but a light gel had been applied to keep it mostly in check. Kensi had insisted that he not neaten his hair too much - otherwise, he wouldn't look like himself. Deeks also wore a black bow-tie, which he now adjusted.

"I really do want to kill you," Kensi informed him. "But then there'd be blood on your nice white shirt."

"That's a relief," said Deeks with a lopsided grin.

"And what the heck are you doing back here, anyway? You're supposed to be up at the altar, stupid."

"What? I wanted to walk you down the aisle."

Kensi threw a punch to his shoulder and he winced.

"Hey!" Deeks exclaimed. "All right, all right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why would _I _need checking up on?" Kensi asked defensively.

"Fine," he allowed. "You don't. Honestly, I just...today, we're gonna be married, you know?"

"Yeah, Deeks, I know," Kensi rolled her eyes.

"And it's a 'whole new beginning' or whatever, right?"

"Yeah," she narrowed her eyes, a bit more serious now.

"So...I guess I just wanted to wish us good luck."

Kensi's expression softened and she smiled. "Not gonna need it, are we?"

He grinned back with confidence. "Of course we won't."

Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek. "Then let's do this, partner."

"Hey," Deeks pouted. "Only on the cheek?"

"Well, get your butt up to the altar and I'll _really _kiss you."

"Right! Getting my butt up to the altar now!"

And with that, he was sneaking up the side aisle to the front of the church. Kensi grinned to herself and shook her head. Just as quietly as Deeks had left, Callen appeared at her side.

"What was he doing back here?" asked the senior agent, perplexed.

"Just a last-minute partner conference," answered Kensi.

There was a long pause, and Callen offered the bride his arm. She took it, and he nodded to the organist up front. Kensi drew a deep breath and saw, in one moment, three years of memories with her partner. Hard times and easy ones. Situations and normal days. Thick and thin. Weeks upon weeks and months upon months of some _thing_, something that had been leading them up to this. They'd always figured things out, and she knew they would figure out this latest chapter together, too. A "whole new beginning" wasn't really the right term, was it? It was more, Kensi thought, like an immortalized constitution of a silent love that had started three years ago. A declaration that they were one, that now they could love one another as only a man and wife can and are supposed to.

The first notes of the opening hymn began, and Kensi released her deep breath.

Rain fell outside, but it was a beautiful rain, and Deeks wouldn't forget how the flash of lightning lit up Kensi's face as she and Callen progressed down the aisle. Deeks was remembering the long and hard journey that had gotten them to this point. It had taken a lot to get her to say yes to him, but the point was that it had happened. He wasn't going to San Francisco, but what was important was that she would go with him if he did.

Callen left as Kensi reached Deeks's side. The differences in their thoughts fell away, and now there was only one thing they were both focused on. In an old church, with a storm brewing and thrashing beyond the stained-glass windows, two partners became one. Impossibility was cemented as reality. Organ music ricocheted off the stone walls and met the ears of a blissful couple. Thunder rolled, smooth and low, in duet with the base clef.

It really was a beautiful rain.

_Fin_

* * *

**Dear readers,**

** I can't thank you enough for reading this series. You've made it my most-followed, most-reviewed story yet! :D That said, I'd love your honest opinion on the epilogue (whether by review or PM) as well as any suggestions you might have for a future series. I plan on doing a one-shot in the next few days, but my plans don't stretch beyond that, so i'd love to hear what NCIS: LA fan-fiction ideas you've been pining to see!Thanks again for reading the story! You made a writer very happy. :)**

** -V.**


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